All Suffering Soon to End
by kimikohiei
Summary: "All the lonely people...Where do they all come from?"  An angel falls into the open arms of a lonely girl. Is he genuinely trying to help her? Or does he have more selfish motives?  I'm not quite sure what I'm doing, so comments are very much appreciated
1. Meet N' Greet

May 25, 2011

Alone.

There was no other way to put it. She layed in bed with the blanket pulled up to her chest and watched Jerry Springer. At times like those, she wondered why she even bothered watching something so boring and repetitive. Somebody cheated, a fight will happen, and then the next story will start, repeating the process. It was pointless to watch and yet, there was nothing else she wanted to do.

She looked to the left. Through her window she could see the sky. It was blue, like a sky should be at the end of May. It also had clouds, as was normal in Pennsylvania. There, it was rare to get that perfect blue sky that she longed for. The edge of a tree filled half the window like a green cloud. Clouds, clouds and more clouds…

She sighed. Her room was a mess. The dishes needed to be put in the dishwasher. The bathroom needed cleaning. The garbage needed to be put out. There were plenty of things to be done. There was plenty of work to keep her busy and to distract her from her isolated state.

But she had no desire to work. She had no drive to get shit done. None at all.

She turned to her left side and fully embraced a fluffy pillow. "How nice would it be if this pillow was a person?" she thought. "How nice would it be if he could hold me too?" She squeezed it tightly and buried her face in the black cotton pillowcase. "How nice would it be…to have somebody here…"

Out of habit, she checked her cell phone for the time. It read 12:34. Without hesitation, she thought, "I wish somebody was here. I'm tired of being alone." She held her breath for a moment, desperately trying to believe that wishes did come true. When nothing happened, she grinned sadly and went back to watching Jerry.

Within a few minutes, the show became so boring that she became unbearably sleepy. She put the pillow up against the wall behind her bed and rested her head against the lower side. The taller end touched her shoulder, as the stomach of a person would. She drifted off to sleep with a tear hanging in her left eye. It was the understanding of how pathetic she was. It was the realization of her weakness. Of just how lonely and desperate she was.

Some time later, she noticed a musky smell. She shifted her shoulder and noticed something with considerable weight was on it. The pillow under her head was hard and oddly shaped as well. Immediately, she jumped up and scooted so far back that she slipped off the bed, taking the maroon blanket with her. She grabbed one of her stiletto heels and aimed it like a sword towards her bed. What she saw shocked her.

A lean, blond, man was resting peacefully against her wall. His eyes were closed and his thin pink lips were open…slightly. He was fully dressed in a green pantsuit with a white chemise and black tie underneath. A black leather strap crossed down from his right shoulder to his black belt. He was wearing black leather gloves as well and black lace up boots that ended just bellow his knees.

She frowned and held on firmly to her shoe. She watched his eyes for twitches, but there was no movement in his face. His chest rose and fell like the calm waves of a lake though, which was nice to see. At least he wasn't dead. She scooted back and picked up a big wooden hanger. She leaned as far back as possible and stretched her arm out. She shivered as she lightly touched the hanger to his waist and jumped back.

Nothing happened.

She bit her lips and poked him again, this time in two consecutive shots, with a bit more force. Once again, he did not move. He was clearly alive, but he was sleeping. She glanced at her water bottle and thought of splashing him with it, but decided against getting her bed wet.

She spotted her phone by his legs and stealthily reached for it. She flipped it open and went straight to the camera. Was she just imagining him there? Had she finally gone crazy? She aimed and noticed the tiny quaking of her hands. She drew a ragged deep breath and took a picture. There he was in her picture. A mass of green with a blond patch on top.

At this point, she was half convinced that she wasn't crazy. She threw away the hanger but kept the stiletto at a dangerous angle. There was a live man in her bed. How did he get there without her noticing?

She kneeled on the edge of the bed and stared at his face. He was a white man but she couldn't tell his ethnicity. His nose was angular and slightly masculine, just slightly. His face was littered with little tan freckles. His eyes looked big and his eyebrows were a bit thick. "Why are his eyebrows brown when his hair is blond?" she wondered to herself.

With the stiletto heel, she poked his hand, making it slide down from its perch on his lap. Frozen, she waited for him to wake up. When he didn't, she exhaled silently and inched closer to him.

She opened her mouth to speak but her voice refused to come out She swallowed and tried again.

"H-hey…" she voiced, barely above a whisper.

No reaction.

She tried again, but with more conviction. Her voice came out a million octaves higher than normal. She was unsure if it was due to fear or if it was because of a much more embarrassing reason. She gave up on talking and scooted closer to him. He didn't look threatening, so she relaxed a little.

She shook his arm.

No reaction.

She shook his shoulder.

Nothing.

A genius idea came to her. She bit her lips and reached for his neck. She ghosted her middle finger down the side of his neck, feeling dirty every single inch of the way. Still, he did not react. She was starting to feel frustrated. She put both hands on his side and pushed him erratically.

Nothing.

Socially appropriate ways to wake a person up were clearly not working for her. The water bottle on her nightstand was starting to look like a brilliant solution. But in her mind, a much more inappropriate solution to the situation sprang up. She frowned comically and turned away from him.

He was quite the attractive lad. She was fond of Disney movies. He was sleeping in her bed. She was the constant victim of role reversal. She looked at his face. He was absolutely gorgeous….his lips were too pink to be real. He was beautiful and she was a curly haired beast. What she wanted to do was completely wrong. She couldn't do something so disgusting to someone so pure-looking.

She scooted closer and lined her lips up with his ear.

"Wake up," she said gently. "Please."

Nothing.

"Come on…If you don't wake up…I'm gonna do something dirty to you…"

Nothing.

She exhaled through her nose and faced him. His head was tilted in her direction, giving her easy access. Everything was perfect. All she had to do was lean in and offend him. One move and he would throw up blood. A simple gesture would have him glaring her down and running out the house. At least he would be awake…

She tried one more time to wake him traditionally. With her right hand on his chest, she begged him, "Wake up."

And nothing happened. It was as if he wanted her to violate him. She thought about it briefly and decided that she didn't care what his reaction was. She just wanted to wake him up. She did what it took to wake him up. She didn't want to hurt him so…

She ran a hand through her curly hair smoothed it out. She couldn't fix her face, but she could try to pretty up her hair. She rubbed her lips together and realized they were a bit chapped. The urge to run was strong, but she wanted to complete her mission more.

She put her arm on the other side of him and stared at his pink lips. They were such a pale pink, paler than rose petals. A frosty pink that threatened to blend in with his white face if placed under certain lighting. She leaned in and shivered as his nose touched hers. She was so close that she could hear him breathing over the infomercial on TV.

In one swift move, she put her lips against his. She tried to keep her eyes open, but they closed on their own. He smelled luxurious, like tea and cologne. She put her left hand on his shoulder and kissed him again, more confidently. His lips were so soft. So incredibly soft. She gave him a few more gentle kisses before pulling herself away to check for a reaction.

His eyebrows knitted together and his eyes squinted shut. She jumped off the bed and aimed her stiletto heel at him. She watched him rub his lips together and touch them curiously. He was probably feeling her Chapstick. She gulped and waited for him to notice her. He turned his head and they made eye contact.

"What are you doing?" he asked her in a thick English accent.

She couldn't think.

"Holding a shoe," she blurted unconsciously.

He smirked condescendingly. "I can see that. Now, pray tell, why are you holding that shoe like a weapon?"

"So. I. can. defend. myself. And stuff."

As the (clearly) Englishman sat up, she backed up as far as possible, which meant into her hamper. She steadied it and kept her shoe pointed at him. He rubbed his head and pulled the covers off his boots.

"Where am I?" he asked calmly.

"My bedroom…" she responded with guilt.

"How did I get here?"

"Uh…I don't exactly know how it happened…"

He put his boots on the floor and stood up, stepping on a pair of sneakers in the process. "Did you summon me here?" he asked casually and stepped into a clear area of floor.

"I don't know…I just…nevermind."

"Where exactly are we? America, I presume?"

"Pennsylvania…"

"Hm. I wonder how I arrived here."

She lowered her shoe slowly and tossed it behind her in the open closet. It banged against the wall, unnecessarily getting his attention. He looked in her direction and she looked down at her socks.

"Are you…alone?"

She perked up and looked him in his eyes. "Yeah—yes. I mean, my family isn't home right now…" She looked down at a pile of clothes.

"I meant, do you feel alone?"

She hesitated for a moment but made contact again. The look she gave him was somber and heavy. It was proof of the answer that she wanted to convey to him. When he nodded just as somberly, she knew that he understood.

"Well you're in luck miss," he said proudly. A light went on under his skin and he broke out into a smile. "I have something to tell you that I think you'll find very pleasing to hear…" he said and loosened his tie.

She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. She didn't say a word as he started to undo his belt and remove his coat. The room was unbelievably hot, so the stripping wasn't too strange. When he started unbuttoning his shirt though, she started to worry.

"Watchya doin'?" she asked awkwardly.

"Just give me a moment and I will explain everything!" he responded cheerfully.

Being the overly trusting type, she allowed him to continue. In less than a minute, his shirt and pants had disappeared on the floor, blending in with her clothes. He stood before her in a toga and a pair of tall Romanesque sandals. He held a wand with a star on the tip and touched it to his head, where a halo appeared.

She stared at him, not quite sure how to react. She could believe that she wished him here. She could believe that magic existed. What she couldn't believe, was that this guy had suddenly sprouted wings and was wearing a floating halo. Angels didn't exist. That would complicate things too much.

He looked straight into her eyes and smiled brightly. She tensed her whole body, since it would be overreacting if she ran out of the room blushing.

"I'm the Britannia Angel!" he explained proudly.

"And…you weren't before you got naked?"

His smile fell and he looked away. "Uh, no."

"Right."

"So, I am the Britannia Angel. I am here to fix everything and make your life more pleasant. Think of me as your fairy godmother!"

"Mm-hm…Sure," she commented.

"Now, you said your problem is that you're lonely?"

She frowned and broke eye contact.

"Do you have any friends?"

Taking no offense to the question, she answered, "A few."

"You have friends and you have family. How can you be lonely?"

"I…I'm not lonely like that…"

He leaned forward and peered up at her. "Then in what way are you?"

She turned to observe the knick-knacks on her dresser, but kept his form in the corner of her eye. He teetered back and forth on his heels, waiting for her to answer.

"I…Well if I have friends and family…what am I missing?"

He straightened up and cleared his throat. She frowned. "Pathetic…" she thought to herself. "Are you going to leave? You can't fix that problem, can you? No. Nobody can. Nobody wants to." Negative thoughts rushed in until he touched her arm.

She looked up at him and tried to keep a straight face. It seemed as though he was doing the same.

"If that is what you need, I will give it to you."

She gave him a confused look. "No, it's ok…"

He took her hand in his and brought it to his wonderfully pink lips. She tensed her jaw and bit the side of her tongue. She resisted the urge to hyperventilate and looked away from what was going on.

He looked up at her again and even though she knew it was a bad idea, she met his gaze.

His eyes were green. It was only the second time in her life that she had ever seen real green eyes. They were so bright and beautiful, framed by defined brown lashes. He looked at her with determination. A light smile graced his face.

"Will you accept me as your lover?"


	2. Awkweird

"_Will you accept me as your lover?"_

Her cheeks were turning red, and not from the stifling heat of her bedroom. She turned from me and looked around desperately, as if she was trying to hold back tears. I realized how forward I was being, but I knew that it was necessary if anything was to get done.

Instead of answering me, she tried to change my mind.

"We don't even know…each other," she said quietly and looked down at our hands.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland. I'm from England. I'm 23 years old."

She looked at me, clearly displeased, and returned the information.

"I'm Kimiko. I'm from Greece. I'm 19."

"Is that your real name?"

"It's…the name I want to be called."

I nodded.

"Why are you doing this?"

I smirked. She asked the one question I didn't want to answer. At this point I was faced with two options. They were both game changers that would lead this possible relationship down completely different paths. I could explain to her that it was simply my duty to make people happy. On the other hand, I could tell her the truth. I could tell her that I share her pain, that I share that same feeling of isolation.

But…I don't want to come off as a pussy…

"First answer me this: If we do enter into a, ahem, _romantic_ relationship, will you be completely honest with me? Will you hold no secrets and speak no lies?"

She looked at me for a moment before responding.

"I hate lying."

"I see…"

"So…"

"Right…Well, I heard your heart calling out to me. You and I…have a similar issue."

"You…don't have anyone either?"

"I'm afraid not. It was our shared pain that…connected us and brought me here."

"Weirdness." Was all she said.

I let go of her hand and she discreetly wiped it on her oversized shirt. It was embarrassing to know that my palms were greased with sweat. I held the hem of my toga in my fists and attempted to dry my hands.

"Haven't you got any AC?"

"No…I don't know how it works…"

"Do you mind if I stay in this then?"

She peeked down at my toga and pursed her lips. "I guess so. Just…remove your shoes."

"Oh, of course."

I stepped to the center of the room and started to untie my sandals. She side stepped away from me and walked to her bed. When I got back up, she was in the bed, under the fleece blanket. How could she bear to be under it when the room was on fire? She looked at the ground near me. I wonder if she was trying to look at me.

When I looked at her for permission to join her, she looked back at me innocently. Was that an invitation? I felt the tips of my ears burn and I climbed over her legs to the other side of the bed. I noticed her shoulders and legs tense as I sat beside her. She looked down at her lap and shuffled her feet.

I situated myself in the space that I first found myself in and relaxed. I looked at her tense legs and frowned. Though I searched my head, I couldn't think of anything comforting to say. So I grabbed her thigh and rubbed it, which earned me a peep like that of an injured cat. I jerked my hand back and scooted a bit away from her. It slipped my mind just how frightening that gesture could seem.

"I am so sorry, I never meant to startle you…" I apologized as best I could.

"It's…ok…" was all she said. "I just…wasn't expecting it…"

"Oh. I see."

I glanced at her eyes and noticed they were tilted in my direction. I looked at the tele and she changed the channel. The air between us was tense and awkward. As the man, I am supposed to take charge and make everything right. I was called here to help her, not to bloody violate her.

She shuffled her feet under the blanket. Suddenly her left hand jumped onto my right thigh, down at the bottom of my toga. She just kept it there and looked across the room. She was a shy girl, but she was making an effort to let me know…something.

"Don't take this the wrong way…but…it's ok to touch me…and stuff."

I looked at her, wide-eyed. How can I take it any other way? Slowly I reached for her thigh and held it as she held mine. We sat there for some time, holding each other's leg. She didn't pull away, and neither did I. It was a rather unusual situation, but...it wasn't unpleasant.

We stayed connected for an indefinite amount of time. At one point, my arm got tired so I moved it. Hers jumped back into her lap, severing our connection. Did she think I was done touching her? If our best communication was going to be through touch, I wasn't going to end the conversation so soon.

I cautiously reached for her hand and pulled it over between us. I felt her hand stiffen slightly, though her fingers stayed soft. Her face remained blank. Why did she try so hard to seem unaffected? And why did a little grade school hand-holding fluster her so much? If holding her hand produced such a reaction, what sort of reaction would I get from kissing her?

I smirked as I thought of it.


End file.
